


Wait for you

by graham_humberts_shoelace



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Emma dies of oldish age and Killian dies from liver cancer so like heads up for that, F/M, Gremma is consuming me, Killian Jones/Emma Swan is mentioned and they did love each other very much, Not a Captain Swan story in case that wasn't obvious??, also not canon compliant so w/e, because most fics aren't canon compliant anyway, loosely inspired by Rumbelle reuniting in the afterlife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24328690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graham_humberts_shoelace/pseuds/graham_humberts_shoelace
Summary: Emma Swan dies seventeen years after her husband, Killian Jones. She expects to meet him in the afterlife.But she finds someone else first.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Milah, Huntsman | Sheriff Graham/Emma Swan
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28





	Wait for you

Emma Swan dies at the age of 77. It is peaceful, it doesn’t hurt, and she knows her children and grandchildren are all happy and healthy. It’s all she could have asked for. Her husband, Killian Jones-

 _You might know be my more colourful moniker_ , he’d grinned once, cocky and so sure of himself. _Captain Hook_.

-had died seventeen years prior. It wasn’t anywhere near as peaceful and pain free as Emma’s own. A form of liver cancer, unfortunately. The day of his death still burned fresh in her mind, as if it had simply been yesterday.

 _“Swan,”_ he’d rasped, smiling at her and brushing away her tears. Always trying to make her feel better, her pirate. _“We’ll see each other again, trust me. But I suspect you’ll have someone else you need to see first.”_ She hadn’t quite understood what he’d meant, then.

He’d died an hour later.

And now, seventeen years later, it’s her turn. She thinks of Henry, sleeping in the guest bedroom to ‘keep an eye on you, mom’. Her boy, always thinking of others. The last few weeks she’d been getting more and more tired. Her bones had ached and her heart was longing for something. For _someone_.

Her children had been watching her for weeks, rotating who would sleep over at her home. Hope tended to come by the most, as she had no children and worked from home. Liam tended to visit with the grandkids, much to Emma’s delight. She adored seeing each one of them, of spoiling them with sweets and telling tales of her and their grandfather’s adventures. Henry visited the least, given that he lived furthest away. Emma didn’t mind though, he still visited, and that’s what mattered to her. She’s certain that her children had anticipated this day coming for weeks.

She was alright with that. They loved her, they adored her. But they didn’t need her anymore. Emma was at peace with that.

And so Emma Swan peacefully passes in her sleep. After a lonely start in life, after finding love and having it ripped from her only to meet her husband and have a family she adores, after saving Storybrooke and its residents. She can finally rest.

* * *

She is standing in front of the station. A job she’d retired from years ago. She also feels… lighter than before. Less pained. She looks down at herself, startled to find her hands manicured and smooth compared to wrinkled with freckles. A lock of her hair falls over her shoulder. Blonde, not grey. 

She takes notice of her attire next; knee high boots, dark jeans, a plain t-shirt and her red leather jacket. She’s not wearing her old necklaces, or her bracelets- Graham’s shoelace is missing.

“No…” she chokes out, looking around the ground as if it had fallen off. “No, no, no!” tears fill her eyes and she rubs her wrist anxiously. She’d worn it less during her and Killian’s marriage, it had felt wrong to wear the shoelace of the man she’d loved on her wrist while married to someone else. Killian had tried to tell her he was fine with it, that he understood completely. 

They’d always had a mutual understanding between them. Their love wasn’t true love but… Emma liked to think it came close. No, her true love had had his heart squeezed to dust long ago, just as Killian’s had.

It wasn’t true love, but it _was_ important and meaningful to them both nonetheless. 

Once it had resulted in a little argument with her mother. Her mother who wanted her to go off and find true love and not just settle. Emma had shot back that her true love was long gone, and so what if it wasn’t the goddamn fairytale romance her mother had dreamed of for her? It was still real.

“Neal?” Mary Margaret had asked her with sympathy written all over her face.

Emma had scoffed at that, shaking her head and staring at her wrist, at the shoelace wound tightly around it. Grounding her. “No.” 

Her mother never asked about it again, and Emma was relieved. It still hurt to even _think_ about Graham for too long.

So losing his shoelace? The little strip of leather that kept her grounded and reminded her that she was loved? It felt like a long awaited breaking point. She wanted to fall to her knees and just sob. But she doesn't. She looks at the building, remembers that his jacket and boots still live there. Even after she'd retired, she'd insisted that they remain there.

She takes a deep breath and holds her head up high, marching into the building. She'll just check that they're there, and then she'll leave, try and find Killian or something. Hopefully. God, she hopes she isn't alone. 

The sound of her boots against the linoleum is oddly comforting. And she turns the corner, finding the office empty. She takes a moment to just look around the room from the archway, smiling a little to herself. She's kind of missed the place, in a weird way. But she has more pressing matters. She opens the door to the Sheriff's office, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of Graham's boots in their place and his jacket on the stand. She picks it up, carefully bringing it close to her chest and closing her eyes.

" _Emma._ "

She whirls around in the direction the sound had came from. There's no one there. And- she looks down, her hands are empty. The familiar weight and feel of Graham's jacket gone.

"Emma." she hears again, the familiar soothing tones of his accent washing over her, the way he says her name. She lets out a shuddering breath, and slowly turns around. Green eyes meet blue. 

"Graham." she whispers, eyes filling with tears. He smiles at her, and _oh god_ , he looks the exact same as he had the day he'd died. Not a hair out of place. The jacket that had disappeared is now on his body, and she's never seen a better sight. Finally, she knows what Killian had meant all those years ago. "You're... you're here."

"I'm here." he nods, his own eyes looking a little wet. "Personally thought I'd wind up in hell." he jokes, and it falls a little flat. But she laughs anyway, though... it sounds more like a choked sob. 

"Join the club, buddy." she says, sniffing and taking a step closer to him, eyes searching his face, taking in every detail. He looks considerably less exhausted and sweaty than he had on his last day alive, but other than that... really nothing has changed. "I..." she chokes out, one of her hands slowly reaching up so she can brush her fingers along his jaw. Her hand is trembling, but he doesn't seem to care. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, and he leans his head into her palm, looking at her through half closed eyes and with a widening smile on his face. "You're here." she says again, moving her fingers up along his forehead, then down the slope of his nose, then back to his jaw.

"I'm here. And you are too. I've been waiting quite a while for you, Miss Swan." he grins, and she finds herself grinning back, taking another step closer.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting, Sheriff." she murmurs, letting her hand drop to his chest. The steady beat of his heart is beneath her palm. It feels odd, knowing that they're dead and he has a heartbeat. It's not real, of course, just like hers won't be, but it reassures her nonetheless.

"Don't be," he says instantly, resting his forehead against hers with a tender smile. "Your life was beautiful, and I got to see it. Don't ever be sorry for that."

"I wish it'd been y-"

"No, you don't." he cuts her off, resting his hands on her waist. "You and Killian loved each other, and I'm thrilled you got that chance at happiness. And god, Emma, you had such amazing children," he beams, and a part of her, just a small part, wishes that they'd been _his_. "Not to mention the grandkids, seven of them, and they're equally incredible." it's heartwarming, hearing him talk about her family like that. Graham might not have been the father of her children, but he'd seen them all grow up, and that makes Emma feel happier than words can describe.

"I'll be able to check in on them once in a while, right?" she asks quietly, biting her lip anxiously. She knows they don't need her, but they're still her children and her children's children. She'd like to be sure once every so often that they're all happy.

"You will. Whenever you want to." he reassures her, giving her waist a gentle squeeze. Emma falls silent at that, simply basking in the comfort of being in Graham's arms once more, of breathing him in. Sandalwood and leather. Perhaps the _most_ cliche of "guy" smells, but god, it's still intoxicating nonetheless. "...You're alright, aren't you? Sometimes the suddenness of this life is a shock."

Emma looks up at him. His curly hair, his well trimmed beard, his brows pinched together with concern, his deep blue eyes keeping a close eye on her expression. His hands twitch a little against her waist, and she rests both palms on his chest. He's just as solid as he was when alive, and that alone seals in her answer.

"I've never been better."

Graham visibly looks more relaxed at that, and she smiles up at him, still trying to comprehend that this is real. That he's here and he's not going anywhere. She won't lose him like she did all those many years ago. 

"Gonna hurry up and kiss me now?" she asks him, arching a brow with an amused grin.

A snort escapes him. "Impatient much?"

"It's been too long for my liking, Graham. I think we're allowed to be a little impatient right now."

A dark look briefly crosses his eyes, but it goes away faster than it came. And he nods, pressing a kiss to her cheek first. "It has been." he agrees, moving one hand from her waist to cup her cheek. With a smile, he leans down and softly slots his lips with hers. For just a second, she panics, thinking he'll fall clutching his chest and gasping for air, for _life_. 

But he doesn't.

Emma kisses him back harder, one hand working its way up to tangle itself in his hair, a soft groan escapes Graham at the action. She has _never_ felt more alive than in that moment.

* * *

It's a few days later when she finds Killian.

Or, rather, he comes back ashore; the Jolly Roger in the harbour. There's no crew. Just him and... a woman with dark hair. Milah, she assumes. And she must assume correct, as she sees Killian press a kiss to his love's lips before coming down to meet her.

There's no jealousy, no resentment. No, she's happy to watch her husband be with the woman he was meant to be with all along. And she's sure, had Graham been here with her at that moment, Killian would feel the exact same. 

"It's too soon for you to be here." is the first thing he says, before pulling her into a tight hug. It isn't romantic in the slightest. She hugs back, burying her face in his shoulder for a moment.

"I'd argue the same about you." she rolls her eyes, pulling back to look at him. Never has she seen him so happy. Perhaps excluding around their children. "But I'm... it was my time, Killian. And I don't feel bad about that at all."

He nods, understanding on his face. He glances back to his ship, to Milah. "I felt the same, Swan." 

"You're happy?" she asks him, because she _has_ to be sure.

"...Won't offend you if I say this is the happiest I've ever been, will I?" he asks, arching a brow at her and warily looking her up and down as if searching for a weapon on her person.

Emma snorts and lightly shoves his shoulder. He plays along, acting as if she'd bestowed some great wound upon him. "No, it wouldn't. Because I'm happy too."

Realisation sparkles in his eyes, and he's _beaming_ at her. "You found him, then? This Graham fellow?"

"I did." she grins, and he pulls her into another hug. She closes her eyes and hugs him tighter. "I don't regret me and you, y'know." she whispers, giving him a squeeze. "I never, ever could, Killian. I loved you, and I... thank you. Thank you."

He laughs, and it's a little thick sounding. "I couldn't either, Swan. And I should be the one thanking you. You gave me a chance, you _loved_ me and... you gave me the best family I could have ever asked for. So," he pulls back, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Let's just both agree that we're both thankful and don't regret a damn thing, how about that?"

"Works for me." she smiles, reaching up to squeeze his hand. "...Friends?" she asks him, just a little awkwardly.

"Always, Swan. Always." 

* * *

Killian promises to come by every few weeks so they can check in with one another and catch up. Milah, for all Emma had known about her, is surprisingly warmer than she'd expected her to be. She makes a friend with Killian's true love, and finds herself chatting to the woman rather comfortably after just a few days. 

She hadn't quite expected Graham and Killian to get along, but they did... like a house on fire. She'd often find the pair chatting over a glass of whiskey or rum, bonding over their pasts. It's good, she thinks, for both of them to have a friend in each other. They're two of the most important people in Emma's life, and she's thrilled to see them getting along. 

"What are you thinking about?" Graham asks her one morning, running his fingers through her hair, his lips pressed to her forehead. His free hand is absentmindedly doodling patterns against her bare waist.

She shifts a little, peering up at him with a content smile. "Just..." she trails off, resting her head back on his chest and closing her eyes. "How right it feels to be here with you."

"Mm..." he hums in agreement, pressing a kiss to her forehead. It's then she decides to tell him. After fifty years of keeping the words to herself.

"Graham?" she whispers, biting her lip softly.

"Yeah, Emma?" 

"I love you." she says softly, and she feels him still a little, before he's gently pulling her up into a kiss. She hums a little, bracing herself with one hand on his chest and the other by his shoulder. It's a feeling that never gets old; his lips on hers. It makes everything seem right in the world, it drowns out all the bad.

He pulls away after a moment, resting his forehead against hers. "What a coincidence," he whispers, opening his eyes and looking at her, before grabbing her by the waist and flipping her onto her back. She shrieks with surprise, grinning up at him and looping her arms around his neck. "Because I love you too."

And that, Emma thinks, might just be the best thing she's ever heard.


End file.
